Cleaning

Yesterday was cleaning day, and, like the good houseman I am, that’s just what I did, the whole flat, from top to bottom, dusted, polished, scrubbed and shined, behind the pots and underneath the beds. Did I ever tell you I have a dust allergy….?

Anyway, I promised you all a poem about cleaning some weeks back, so I put my pen to paper, and tried putting myself in the position of a mother of two who has to do this everyday. See what you think here.

Depressing news – America sees the light and takes a big swing to the left, so what does Europe do? Swings to the right of course. Is this some kind of reactionary relationship between the electorates or are they actually planning to meet in the middle? Not that the middle ground is particularly appealing, but moderation does seem to be the message of the day.

Everyone over here keeps asking who’s going to pay for the deficit caused by banking crash, but no-one’s seriously thought about asking the banks for our money back, now they’re making a profit…

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Rock Fuck

A strange one today. The plan was – clean the flat and write a poem about cleaning. Yes, I know it’s cheap, but I’m not proud, I’ll do anything to stay in the writing mode, and away from the procrastinating, drinking, self-destructive, having  much to much fun for my own good mode, although having said that… Anyway, after four hours of extremely anally retentive behaviour, I sat down to write a little ditty, and then an eighties rock song blasted out of the radio, and for some reason I ended up writing about that instead. It’s called Rock Fuck for want of a better name, and you can read it here.